This is something I have been putting off writing each month because I have so much to say that my fingers cannot keep up with my thoughts. But today I feel like I should write this...get it out into the universe...possibly to reach you wherever you are.
Today marks three months since you left my body. It seems like a lifetime ago that you were snuggled safely in my belly, wiggling and tapping to let me know you were with me.
Today marks 33 weeks...where we might have been if you hadn't left. But instead I am left here to mark the time alone, checking off days until a due date that is meaningless now.
How do I wrap you into my life now? We had such a brief time together. It feels like it was only a moment. But that moment was more precious to me than any other time I could have imagined. You brought hope that lit up our world for those 20 weeks. We smiled again...and planned...things we thought we had forgotten how to do. I can't thank you enough for that joy...that love.
You know, there are times when I am enjoying myself and I think how very different things might have been if your brother or you had lived. And in those moments, I feel guilty that I am enjoying MY reality...because it comes only in your absence. I am left to dream of two alternate realities...both with promises so sweet I can almost taste them...both only in my imagination.
I suppose we always wish for that which we can not have. That is the nature of being human. But my wish, sweet boy, is not for me...it is for you...for all the things you never got to do in this world...for who you never got to be. I truly hope that there is happiness surrounding you wherever you are. Because this unending sadness is too much to bear and I would never wish this upon you, my darling son. I love you.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Monday, August 07, 2006
What I have NOT bitched and moaned about a zillion times before
So it's time to focus on something other than the sad state of my children. So how about the sad state of my career? As I typed this and reached the end, I realized it's really not sad at all. huh. Go figure. Anyway...
A few years ago, I think I was in college at the time, my mom went to see a psychic. The psychic told mom that my career would have to wait for my family. Ha! That's rich! I mean, you'd think that if THIS is what she meant, she should have mentioned it. But I digress...
When I graduated law school I was working as a law clerk at the Juvenile Court in Cleveland. This was the job that saw me through two unsuccessful attempts at the Ohio bar exam. It was flexible in it's hours and allowed me time off to study and take the test again and again.
Now if you know anything about Juvenile Courts in this country, you will know that Cleveland's does not have a...ummm...great reputation. The court is large and it is overtaxed by juveniles and families who often have problems much bigger than any court system can handle. Because of this, they have a great need for people willing to work a demanding caseload and I was therefore able to get a lot of valuable learning experience while working there. But at $9 an hour, and law school loans coming due to the tune of $83,000 (take a moment and gasp, most people do), I needed to find a more promising employment option. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, who can tell anymore?), this all came to a head about the same time we bought our first house out in the boonies and I found out I was pregnant with Sam.
So, in an effort to streamline and focus my energies on finding that elusive "perfect job," I quit my job at the court and went to work for a local social services agency...still for $9 an hour but minus the forty-five minute drive into Cleveland (said local social services agency shall remain nameless to protect the innocent).
Let's just say that despite how good is sounded (community assistance specialist) it was not an ideal situation. I believe they expected legal services for the measly $9 an hour they were paying. And when such legal service were not forthcoming...and they found out I was pregnant...my employment was "separated." I LOVE that term...separated...when the truth is they fired my ass. Three days before my probationary period expired.
So there I was, January 2005, pregnant and unemployed in a new old house that needed repairs and required mortgage payments. We limped along financially for a couple months until I finally decided to apply for unemployment so as to avail myself of the magical financial hardship deferrment (available to those of us who find ourselves buried in educational debt and unceremoniously "separated" from our employment).
Unfortunately, in order to maintain unemployment benefits and the resulting deferrment status, I had to send out resumes, and go on interviews anywhere that responded favorably. Now let me set the stage for you, because here is where it gets comical.
Multiple phone calls, letters, and emails are exchanged. Everyone seems quite pleased and, "can't wait to meet you." Then you walk in with a blazer that barely buttons to disguise your growing belly and their jaws hit the floor. I'm not kidding you. I swear I should have taken a camera with me on some of those interviews. I knew there wasn't a chance in hell I was going to get hired even as I drove to each one, so I should have at least captured some of those moments for photo contests and such...I could have made millions recording the faces. Oh the faces were priceless! But I digress again...
I remember this one interview where the hiring attorney said to me, "I shouldn't say this, and you can probably sue me for it, but I can't hire you because I need someone immediately, not someone who is going to be taking six weeks maternity leave in the near future." When I mentioned I might not take a full six weeks maternity leave, or could work some from home, I was TOLD that six weeks is "what's best for you and the baby." You can imagine my outrage. I still remember the rant I let loose to my mom about the whole thing that afternoon...many f*** him's and god damn's were let fly.
You can also imagine my outrage when, sixteen months later, that same employer called to offer me a job and I, having spent fifteen months at home with a newborn and little to no adult interaction, jumped at the opportunity. Yes...I jumped at the opportunity. So much for my moral and ethical standards.
I had spent a total of twenty months unemployed. Fifteen of those months were with newborn Samuel. And I look back on those fifteen months and smile and miss my little baby boy. Partly because I fear I will never again have newborn baby experiences again, and partly because I am so far removed from those newborn experiences that I can dress them up and make them pretty...when they were really anything but.
For the most part I enjoyed my time at home. Except for the mind-numbing boredom, it was fine. I got a lot of crafting and reading and cleaning done. OK...I lie about the cleaning. I've never been one to do much cleaning. But I was more on top of the mountain of laundry during that time. Washing baby clothes constantly was actually fun for me. I love all those little outfits.
But I felt like a complete and utter failure as far as my career was concerned. I mean, here I was with a law degree...I FINALLY passed the bar exam after three tries...and I was a stay at home mommy with $83,000 in school loan debt. As if the pregnant interviews weren't enough of a blow to my ego, I was no longer pregnant and still couldn't find a job. And I was BORED.
I wish I could tell people I loved staying home and that I found the experience of being a stay at home mommy a rewarding experience. But I didn't. I was bored to tears...literally. Many many many tears. I wanted to be happy, but I wasn't. And I felt guilty that I wasn't happy. I had friends who would have given anything to be able to stay home with their kids. And I personally thought they were freaks. Not that their desire was weird...but I didn't have that same desire. Maybe I was the freak?
I'm not sure exactly when it happened. But after months and months of much teeth-gnashing and self-doubt, I realized that it really makes no difference what I do...as long as I am happy.
That's right. My big revelation was this...I'm happy when I'm doing what makes me happy. Duh huh? But even more...it doesn't matter what anybody else thinks about what makes me happy because they don't have to live my life. Can I have another duh please?
Yeah, stay at home moms have a great gig...if they think it's a great gig. I, however, did not think it was so great. Call me selfish...but if I had to listen to one more minute of baby talk I was going to stick pacifiers in my ears and run naked into the street singing "The Friendly Pirate Ship." It was insane. I was insane. And I felt GUILTY for feeling insane. I was supposed to love this shit. Everybody said so. What was wrong with me?
But you know what? Nothing was wrong with me. Some people are made to be lawyers and some are made to be stay at home mommies. I wouldn't want a stay at home mommy type person trying to represent me in court. So who the hell did I think I was trying to do their job? I was clearly delusional and not able to recognize my own limits.
I believed my mom when, while I was growing up, she said I could be anything I wanted to be. But I focused on the "be anything" part and didn't HEAR the anything "I want to be" part. I was trying to force myself into a role that I didn't want because I kept thinking, "I can be anything." No...I can be anything I WANT TO BE. That's the key. It took me decades to figure it out...that simple little thing. I have to want it in order to love it. It can't be forced on me by some societal pressure to conform to what is "right," or by my friends who would trade places with me in a heartbeat, or by my own feeling that my child can't be happy with anyone else but me.
My kid...he loves me no matter what. My husband...he just wants me to be happy. It's really not any more complicated than that.
All of us just spend so much of our time worrying about what everyone else will think. Who cares? Do they live in your house? So you get the silent (or sometimes not-so-silent) judgment from other mothers. So what? Will the world stop turning if Jane down the street doesn't think you should go to work?
Oh, how did I get on my feminist soapbox?
So here I am. In a job with a boss I initially had nothing but contempt for. Turns out, he's a pretty nice guy and a pretty good boss. The job doesn't pay as well as some legal jobs I could probably hunt and kill for. But I have chosen to make trade offs in my career so that I could have evenings and weekends with my family. A very wise friend said to me, "They're only little once and I'm sure you don't want to look back and feel like you missed it all." And she's right. So I work here at the prosecutor's office in Podunk, USA. I like my work, so that definitely helps. And the people are mostly nice. Generally, the ones I don't like are the lawyer types I have chosen not to be. So how's that for positive reinforcement of my decision making?
A few years ago, I think I was in college at the time, my mom went to see a psychic. The psychic told mom that my career would have to wait for my family. Ha! That's rich! I mean, you'd think that if THIS is what she meant, she should have mentioned it. But I digress...
When I graduated law school I was working as a law clerk at the Juvenile Court in Cleveland. This was the job that saw me through two unsuccessful attempts at the Ohio bar exam. It was flexible in it's hours and allowed me time off to study and take the test again and again.
Now if you know anything about Juvenile Courts in this country, you will know that Cleveland's does not have a...ummm...great reputation. The court is large and it is overtaxed by juveniles and families who often have problems much bigger than any court system can handle. Because of this, they have a great need for people willing to work a demanding caseload and I was therefore able to get a lot of valuable learning experience while working there. But at $9 an hour, and law school loans coming due to the tune of $83,000 (take a moment and gasp, most people do), I needed to find a more promising employment option. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, who can tell anymore?), this all came to a head about the same time we bought our first house out in the boonies and I found out I was pregnant with Sam.
So, in an effort to streamline and focus my energies on finding that elusive "perfect job," I quit my job at the court and went to work for a local social services agency...still for $9 an hour but minus the forty-five minute drive into Cleveland (said local social services agency shall remain nameless to protect the innocent).
Let's just say that despite how good is sounded (community assistance specialist) it was not an ideal situation. I believe they expected legal services for the measly $9 an hour they were paying. And when such legal service were not forthcoming...and they found out I was pregnant...my employment was "separated." I LOVE that term...separated...when the truth is they fired my ass. Three days before my probationary period expired.
So there I was, January 2005, pregnant and unemployed in a new old house that needed repairs and required mortgage payments. We limped along financially for a couple months until I finally decided to apply for unemployment so as to avail myself of the magical financial hardship deferrment (available to those of us who find ourselves buried in educational debt and unceremoniously "separated" from our employment).
Unfortunately, in order to maintain unemployment benefits and the resulting deferrment status, I had to send out resumes, and go on interviews anywhere that responded favorably. Now let me set the stage for you, because here is where it gets comical.
Multiple phone calls, letters, and emails are exchanged. Everyone seems quite pleased and, "can't wait to meet you." Then you walk in with a blazer that barely buttons to disguise your growing belly and their jaws hit the floor. I'm not kidding you. I swear I should have taken a camera with me on some of those interviews. I knew there wasn't a chance in hell I was going to get hired even as I drove to each one, so I should have at least captured some of those moments for photo contests and such...I could have made millions recording the faces. Oh the faces were priceless! But I digress again...
I remember this one interview where the hiring attorney said to me, "I shouldn't say this, and you can probably sue me for it, but I can't hire you because I need someone immediately, not someone who is going to be taking six weeks maternity leave in the near future." When I mentioned I might not take a full six weeks maternity leave, or could work some from home, I was TOLD that six weeks is "what's best for you and the baby." You can imagine my outrage. I still remember the rant I let loose to my mom about the whole thing that afternoon...many f*** him's and god damn's were let fly.
You can also imagine my outrage when, sixteen months later, that same employer called to offer me a job and I, having spent fifteen months at home with a newborn and little to no adult interaction, jumped at the opportunity. Yes...I jumped at the opportunity. So much for my moral and ethical standards.
I had spent a total of twenty months unemployed. Fifteen of those months were with newborn Samuel. And I look back on those fifteen months and smile and miss my little baby boy. Partly because I fear I will never again have newborn baby experiences again, and partly because I am so far removed from those newborn experiences that I can dress them up and make them pretty...when they were really anything but.
For the most part I enjoyed my time at home. Except for the mind-numbing boredom, it was fine. I got a lot of crafting and reading and cleaning done. OK...I lie about the cleaning. I've never been one to do much cleaning. But I was more on top of the mountain of laundry during that time. Washing baby clothes constantly was actually fun for me. I love all those little outfits.
But I felt like a complete and utter failure as far as my career was concerned. I mean, here I was with a law degree...I FINALLY passed the bar exam after three tries...and I was a stay at home mommy with $83,000 in school loan debt. As if the pregnant interviews weren't enough of a blow to my ego, I was no longer pregnant and still couldn't find a job. And I was BORED.
I wish I could tell people I loved staying home and that I found the experience of being a stay at home mommy a rewarding experience. But I didn't. I was bored to tears...literally. Many many many tears. I wanted to be happy, but I wasn't. And I felt guilty that I wasn't happy. I had friends who would have given anything to be able to stay home with their kids. And I personally thought they were freaks. Not that their desire was weird...but I didn't have that same desire. Maybe I was the freak?
I'm not sure exactly when it happened. But after months and months of much teeth-gnashing and self-doubt, I realized that it really makes no difference what I do...as long as I am happy.
That's right. My big revelation was this...I'm happy when I'm doing what makes me happy. Duh huh? But even more...it doesn't matter what anybody else thinks about what makes me happy because they don't have to live my life. Can I have another duh please?
Yeah, stay at home moms have a great gig...if they think it's a great gig. I, however, did not think it was so great. Call me selfish...but if I had to listen to one more minute of baby talk I was going to stick pacifiers in my ears and run naked into the street singing "The Friendly Pirate Ship." It was insane. I was insane. And I felt GUILTY for feeling insane. I was supposed to love this shit. Everybody said so. What was wrong with me?
But you know what? Nothing was wrong with me. Some people are made to be lawyers and some are made to be stay at home mommies. I wouldn't want a stay at home mommy type person trying to represent me in court. So who the hell did I think I was trying to do their job? I was clearly delusional and not able to recognize my own limits.
I believed my mom when, while I was growing up, she said I could be anything I wanted to be. But I focused on the "be anything" part and didn't HEAR the anything "I want to be" part. I was trying to force myself into a role that I didn't want because I kept thinking, "I can be anything." No...I can be anything I WANT TO BE. That's the key. It took me decades to figure it out...that simple little thing. I have to want it in order to love it. It can't be forced on me by some societal pressure to conform to what is "right," or by my friends who would trade places with me in a heartbeat, or by my own feeling that my child can't be happy with anyone else but me.
My kid...he loves me no matter what. My husband...he just wants me to be happy. It's really not any more complicated than that.
All of us just spend so much of our time worrying about what everyone else will think. Who cares? Do they live in your house? So you get the silent (or sometimes not-so-silent) judgment from other mothers. So what? Will the world stop turning if Jane down the street doesn't think you should go to work?
Oh, how did I get on my feminist soapbox?
So here I am. In a job with a boss I initially had nothing but contempt for. Turns out, he's a pretty nice guy and a pretty good boss. The job doesn't pay as well as some legal jobs I could probably hunt and kill for. But I have chosen to make trade offs in my career so that I could have evenings and weekends with my family. A very wise friend said to me, "They're only little once and I'm sure you don't want to look back and feel like you missed it all." And she's right. So I work here at the prosecutor's office in Podunk, USA. I like my work, so that definitely helps. And the people are mostly nice. Generally, the ones I don't like are the lawyer types I have chosen not to be. So how's that for positive reinforcement of my decision making?
Truth is stranger than fiction
If I wrote a book, would people believe me?
Would people believe that when I went for my doppler check that day with Alex that neither the nurse nor the doctor (not my regular OB) would look me in the eye or tell me what was going on?
Would people believe that when we arrived at the hospital that morning, they made us sit in a tiny waiting room the size of a broom closet and watch Texas Justice? or that a nurse stuck her head in and told us we could feel free to change the channel?
Would people believe that the nurse that walked ahead of us to that room tucked away in the corner greeted us with, "I'm sorry, sometimes these things just happen"?
Would people believe that I labored for 60+ hours to deliver a dead boy because I couldn't face the thought of another c-section...not for a dead baby?
Would people believe that during that entire 60+ hours of labor, my OB never once stopped in to see how I was?
Would people believe how I terrified the poor volunteer who delivered flowers from my workplace to that room in the corner when she asked, "What's the matter dear? Is it all just too much?" (obviously thinking I was just overwhelmed by labor)...and I cried out loud, "My baby is dead!"?
Would people believe that it was MONTHS before my husband and I made love after Alex was stillborn? Would people believe that I cried that first time?
Would people believe that my OB lied to me about the cause of my Alex's death and would have perpetuated that lie forever if I hadn't been as nosey as I am?
Would people believe that my boys were stillborn almost exactly one year apart...to the day?
Would people believe that each baby died from his own "freak" occurrence that isn't likely to recur?
Would people believe that I KNEW my Travis was dead before I ever said anything to my husband that Sunday morning?
Would people believe I drove myself to the hospital that Sunday morning?
Would people believe that the lab technician who drew my blood that morning just so happened to have suffered five losses herself and knew just the right things to say? that she sat and held my hand while she talked to me? that she happens to work with the teddy bear project?
Would people believe that the teddy bear a friend sent for Sam after Travis died is just about the exact size of Travis' little body? that I hold it and imagine it is him?
Would people believe that I dream of digging my sons out of the earth to hold their little broken bodies?
Would people believe that my post-Alex OB calls and writes notes and emails with hopeful messages as well as information?
Would people believe that sometimes you just don't get a happy ending?
Would people believe the jealousy I harbor of those with perfectly good bodies that can produce children with no question?
Would people believe some of the unkind and bizarre things that have been said to me over the past year?
Would people believe that there is enough bad luck in the world to lose two babies, an uncle, a great aunt and a grandmother...have an uncle fight cancer and an aunt diagnosed with cancer...have a friend suffer a miscarriage quietly so as to spare my feelings...all within two years?
Would people believe that I am still happy for them when they find happiness in their own lives...I just can't deal with the lack of it in my own life?
Would people believe that I can and do function...barely...and spend most days just faking it? that I am a shell of the person I used to be? that I just don't have the energy to rebuild myself again?
Would people believe that despite appearances, it's all I can do some days just to get out of bed in the morning? that no matter how 'well' I seem to be doing, I am falling apart in silence?
Would people believe it all?
Because I'm not sure I do.
Would people believe that when I went for my doppler check that day with Alex that neither the nurse nor the doctor (not my regular OB) would look me in the eye or tell me what was going on?
Would people believe that when we arrived at the hospital that morning, they made us sit in a tiny waiting room the size of a broom closet and watch Texas Justice? or that a nurse stuck her head in and told us we could feel free to change the channel?
Would people believe that the nurse that walked ahead of us to that room tucked away in the corner greeted us with, "I'm sorry, sometimes these things just happen"?
Would people believe that I labored for 60+ hours to deliver a dead boy because I couldn't face the thought of another c-section...not for a dead baby?
Would people believe that during that entire 60+ hours of labor, my OB never once stopped in to see how I was?
Would people believe how I terrified the poor volunteer who delivered flowers from my workplace to that room in the corner when she asked, "What's the matter dear? Is it all just too much?" (obviously thinking I was just overwhelmed by labor)...and I cried out loud, "My baby is dead!"?
Would people believe that it was MONTHS before my husband and I made love after Alex was stillborn? Would people believe that I cried that first time?
Would people believe that my OB lied to me about the cause of my Alex's death and would have perpetuated that lie forever if I hadn't been as nosey as I am?
Would people believe that my boys were stillborn almost exactly one year apart...to the day?
Would people believe that each baby died from his own "freak" occurrence that isn't likely to recur?
Would people believe that I KNEW my Travis was dead before I ever said anything to my husband that Sunday morning?
Would people believe I drove myself to the hospital that Sunday morning?
Would people believe that the lab technician who drew my blood that morning just so happened to have suffered five losses herself and knew just the right things to say? that she sat and held my hand while she talked to me? that she happens to work with the teddy bear project?
Would people believe that the teddy bear a friend sent for Sam after Travis died is just about the exact size of Travis' little body? that I hold it and imagine it is him?
Would people believe that I dream of digging my sons out of the earth to hold their little broken bodies?
Would people believe that my post-Alex OB calls and writes notes and emails with hopeful messages as well as information?
Would people believe that sometimes you just don't get a happy ending?
Would people believe the jealousy I harbor of those with perfectly good bodies that can produce children with no question?
Would people believe some of the unkind and bizarre things that have been said to me over the past year?
Would people believe that there is enough bad luck in the world to lose two babies, an uncle, a great aunt and a grandmother...have an uncle fight cancer and an aunt diagnosed with cancer...have a friend suffer a miscarriage quietly so as to spare my feelings...all within two years?
Would people believe that I am still happy for them when they find happiness in their own lives...I just can't deal with the lack of it in my own life?
Would people believe that I can and do function...barely...and spend most days just faking it? that I am a shell of the person I used to be? that I just don't have the energy to rebuild myself again?
Would people believe that despite appearances, it's all I can do some days just to get out of bed in the morning? that no matter how 'well' I seem to be doing, I am falling apart in silence?
Would people believe it all?
Because I'm not sure I do.
Welcome to the world Baby Declan!
Declan Broderick was born at 6:58 pm on August 2nd weighing in at 8lbs 6oz 19 3/4 inches at 37 weeks 3 days--born screaming!
Congratulations mama!
Congratulations mama!
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Suggestions?
Steve and I have an anniversary coming up...twelve years. All but the last two have been great. Well, there were a few bumps in the road, but comparatively speaking, I now see how great they actually were. But I digress...
We have free babysitting a la grandma and grandpa. So what should we do with our free night out? Dinner? A movie? hmmm...?
If anyone has any fun suggestions, just leave a comment. Try to keep it somewhat clean...my family reads this blog sometimes.
We have free babysitting a la grandma and grandpa. So what should we do with our free night out? Dinner? A movie? hmmm...?
If anyone has any fun suggestions, just leave a comment. Try to keep it somewhat clean...my family reads this blog sometimes.
So I made my husband call the police
Yesterday, while Steve took pity on my poor sore ankle and ran into Walmart to get my bubble mailers, I sat in the minivan with Sam with the AC running. A woman and her two kids pulled up next to us in their Ford Aerostar minivan, rolled the windows almost all the way up, and proceeded to head into Kohl's to shop.
It wasn't until the average American family disappeared into the store that the little white dog popped up into the driver's seat and started barking.
85 degrees, with a slight breeze, windows open about an inch-and-a-half.
I was so mad I was ready to break into that minivan and take that dog out of there myself. Or, alternatively, to go into Kohl's and give that woman a talking to. But no...not me. I lost all gumption and had my husband call the police. I'm not particularly proud of myself, but I will leave the self-analysis (what the hell has happened to me?) for later, I'm too tired to deal with it now.
The defender-of-truth-and-justice police officer asked, "Are the windows open?" at which point we knew nobody would speak up for this poor little dog. So we sat and kept an eye out for the little guy for 15 minutes while it panted and panted, looking up at the store, waiting for its family to return. If that idiot had taken any longer, that dog would have a new home...even if I would have had to make my husband do the fetching for me.
Oh yeah...the police never showed. And Sam learned a couple new colorful phrases. (blush)
(Next time, the story of the cocker spaniel who may be euthanized because it fought back against the two-year-old who was terrorizing it while the grandparents watched. People suck.)
It wasn't until the average American family disappeared into the store that the little white dog popped up into the driver's seat and started barking.
85 degrees, with a slight breeze, windows open about an inch-and-a-half.
I was so mad I was ready to break into that minivan and take that dog out of there myself. Or, alternatively, to go into Kohl's and give that woman a talking to. But no...not me. I lost all gumption and had my husband call the police. I'm not particularly proud of myself, but I will leave the self-analysis (what the hell has happened to me?) for later, I'm too tired to deal with it now.
The defender-of-truth-and-justice police officer asked, "Are the windows open?" at which point we knew nobody would speak up for this poor little dog. So we sat and kept an eye out for the little guy for 15 minutes while it panted and panted, looking up at the store, waiting for its family to return. If that idiot had taken any longer, that dog would have a new home...even if I would have had to make my husband do the fetching for me.
Oh yeah...the police never showed. And Sam learned a couple new colorful phrases. (blush)
(Next time, the story of the cocker spaniel who may be euthanized because it fought back against the two-year-old who was terrorizing it while the grandparents watched. People suck.)
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Shopping off the Runway
Do you watch Project Runway? I shamefully admit that I do. I LOVE the clothes!
This year so far, one challenge winner has seen his design on a Miss Universe contestant. And now YOU and I can BUY a challenge winners design at Macy's. It's a bit pricey for me at this stage of my impendingbankruptcy home renovation. And of course they don't do plus sizes (sigh). But it's cute. If I had the cash and could fit my fat ass into something like it, I would buy it. :o)
This year so far, one challenge winner has seen his design on a Miss Universe contestant. And now YOU and I can BUY a challenge winners design at Macy's. It's a bit pricey for me at this stage of my impending
R is for Rhombus
I found this over at Cool Mom Picks and thought some of my dear friends here would appreciate this item.
Nerd Alphabet Cards.
You know who you are. :o)
Nerd Alphabet Cards.
You know who you are. :o)
Friday, August 04, 2006
sigh
My aunt had something show up on her mammogram. She had a biopsy that showed at least 3 spots having cancerous cells. She will have a lumpectomy on Wednesday.
This is the aunt who selflessly moved in with her parents to care for them in their old age so they could remain at home. She watched her husband, a long time smoker, diagnosed with and treated for cancer of the neck. She crossed the distance to stand by us when we buried our Alex. She buried her mother with grace and dignity and has continued to care for her father with such immense love. She is an amazing woman.
This isn't her first fight with cancer. She had skin cancer on/in her leg many years ago that was removed with surgery. So I suppose it's not entirely a surprise that it could recur in another part of her body. But for God's sake...when is the universe going to dish out SOME justice already??? This is ridiculous!!!! And so f***ing unfair!!!!!!! I'm tired of ALL of this!!!!!!!
This is the aunt who selflessly moved in with her parents to care for them in their old age so they could remain at home. She watched her husband, a long time smoker, diagnosed with and treated for cancer of the neck. She crossed the distance to stand by us when we buried our Alex. She buried her mother with grace and dignity and has continued to care for her father with such immense love. She is an amazing woman.
This isn't her first fight with cancer. She had skin cancer on/in her leg many years ago that was removed with surgery. So I suppose it's not entirely a surprise that it could recur in another part of her body. But for God's sake...when is the universe going to dish out SOME justice already??? This is ridiculous!!!! And so f***ing unfair!!!!!!! I'm tired of ALL of this!!!!!!!
Two weeks!
Two weeks...that's when the contractor can finally start our house...in two weeks! They took another job when they weren't sure ours was going to go through. So now we have to wait for that one to be finished. I think I'm going to hurt somebody!
Thank you friends
Every day, in little ways, our boys are remembered.
These memory boxes were put together by my dear friend Kate and her friend Suzanne. They were something I initially thought I had the strength to put together myself...but faced with the empty boxes, I found I just couldn't do it.
So I handed the empty boxes over to Kate and Suzanne to fill with love and all the things they thought appropriate. The boxes will be donated to a hospital to be given to those who live through the unthinkable loss of a baby.
The cards on these two say, "This box was made for you in memory of Alex C," and "This box was made for you in memory of Travis C."
Thank you so much. And thank you to anyone who holds Alex and Travis in their memory or does something special in remembrance. It means more to me than I can say.
There are other boxes too. In memory of other children. Too many.
These memory boxes were put together by my dear friend Kate and her friend Suzanne. They were something I initially thought I had the strength to put together myself...but faced with the empty boxes, I found I just couldn't do it.
So I handed the empty boxes over to Kate and Suzanne to fill with love and all the things they thought appropriate. The boxes will be donated to a hospital to be given to those who live through the unthinkable loss of a baby.
The cards on these two say, "This box was made for you in memory of Alex C," and "This box was made for you in memory of Travis C."
Thank you so much. And thank you to anyone who holds Alex and Travis in their memory or does something special in remembrance. It means more to me than I can say.
There are other boxes too. In memory of other children. Too many.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
that hurts
I just updated my office calendar for the remainder of the year.
That big gaping hole in August and September...for maternity leave...
Crap, crap, crap.
That big gaping hole in August and September...for maternity leave...
Crap, crap, crap.
It's been a while
It's been a while since it happened...the awkward feeling like I should crawl under the desk and hide. But it's still here, alive and well.
Today my office neighbor's wife brought their 6.5 month old son in for a visit. She lost power at her house and it was just too hot to stay home...so it was a visit to daddy at the office.
Baby M is adorable and I invited his daddy to bring him into my office so I could make googly faces at him. I was even able to coax a couple of smiles out of him, though he spent a good bit of the time staring at me as though he knew all my secrets. (This is a new phenomenon for me and babies...it's like they KNOW or something...kind of creepy...especially when other people comment on it...but I digress...)
We were all in my office ooh-ing and aah-ing over him when S, the new girl (who DOES know my story), turns to R (the new mommy in the office...though not so new anymore...her kid is a year old now...just about how old Alex should be) and says, "Don't you want another one of those?" And R says, "No, one is good enough for now." Which left WHO as the next likely target for her dumbass idiotic questions? Yours truly, of course. Thankfully, she engaged her brain before she actually said it, but I was left instead with that look and that awkward moment where everyone in the room realized what she was going to say and why she couldn't say it to me.
sigh
If anyone needs me I'll be under my desk, curled in a fetal position, crying my eyes out. Thanks for stopping by.
Today my office neighbor's wife brought their 6.5 month old son in for a visit. She lost power at her house and it was just too hot to stay home...so it was a visit to daddy at the office.
Baby M is adorable and I invited his daddy to bring him into my office so I could make googly faces at him. I was even able to coax a couple of smiles out of him, though he spent a good bit of the time staring at me as though he knew all my secrets. (This is a new phenomenon for me and babies...it's like they KNOW or something...kind of creepy...especially when other people comment on it...but I digress...)
We were all in my office ooh-ing and aah-ing over him when S, the new girl (who DOES know my story), turns to R (the new mommy in the office...though not so new anymore...her kid is a year old now...just about how old Alex should be) and says, "Don't you want another one of those?" And R says, "No, one is good enough for now." Which left WHO as the next likely target for her dumbass idiotic questions? Yours truly, of course. Thankfully, she engaged her brain before she actually said it, but I was left instead with that look and that awkward moment where everyone in the room realized what she was going to say and why she couldn't say it to me.
sigh
If anyone needs me I'll be under my desk, curled in a fetal position, crying my eyes out. Thanks for stopping by.
My new view out my front window
eeks! I'm so excited I can hardly stand it!
Never mind the dirty windows. I'm not cleaning them until the destruction and reconstruction is done.
Never mind the dirty windows. I'm not cleaning them until the destruction and reconstruction is done.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Dear Dr. A
Dr. A:
Steve and I were talking about all of this and he asked a couple questions I couldn't answer. I hope you don't mind that I pester you with them.
Since there doesn't appear to be a clotting problem, would we still do small dose coagulation treatment? If so, is this something I should start before we try to conceive? or would it start after I got pregnant? If it starts before we try to get pregnant, how long before?
Just to let you know where we are mentally with all this...
We both realize that we're not ready to try again. But we haven't completely ruled out the possibility either. So we want to know what we should do IF we decide to give it another try. I think it might also help us make that decision if we know what all would be involved in trying again.
Thanks again. I really appreciate the time and attention you have given us. You have been very kind, and that means a lot to Steve and me.
Sincerely,
Catherine
-------------------------------------
Hi, Cathy, Hi, Steve,
I am here to help you guys out---please, never think twice about contacting me---I’m here for you.
I’d still put you on a prophylactic dose of blood thinners; it would be one injection daily of a medicine called lovenox. Despite the fact that the tests did not point towards a clotting issue, I’m not reassured/convinced. As the downsides to this approach are minimal (except for the daily injections), I’d still try to cover that base.
Nope, don’t have to be on before conceiving; would start when you realized you were pregnant.
I’ll be out of town from 7 August through 14th (in case you try to get me…).
Take care,
Dr. A
-------------------------------------
So that's the latest. Steve and I have agreed to take a break on the decision-making until the house renovation is finished (or at least until it's in a liveable condition...we ARE realists about the whole thing). This gives me time to figure out what I really want to do and it means I can lift heavy things, paint, etc. without worrying. It's all good. :o)
Steve and I were talking about all of this and he asked a couple questions I couldn't answer. I hope you don't mind that I pester you with them.
Since there doesn't appear to be a clotting problem, would we still do small dose coagulation treatment? If so, is this something I should start before we try to conceive? or would it start after I got pregnant? If it starts before we try to get pregnant, how long before?
Just to let you know where we are mentally with all this...
We both realize that we're not ready to try again. But we haven't completely ruled out the possibility either. So we want to know what we should do IF we decide to give it another try. I think it might also help us make that decision if we know what all would be involved in trying again.
Thanks again. I really appreciate the time and attention you have given us. You have been very kind, and that means a lot to Steve and me.
Sincerely,
Catherine
-------------------------------------
Hi, Cathy, Hi, Steve,
I am here to help you guys out---please, never think twice about contacting me---I’m here for you.
I’d still put you on a prophylactic dose of blood thinners; it would be one injection daily of a medicine called lovenox. Despite the fact that the tests did not point towards a clotting issue, I’m not reassured/convinced. As the downsides to this approach are minimal (except for the daily injections), I’d still try to cover that base.
Nope, don’t have to be on before conceiving; would start when you realized you were pregnant.
I’ll be out of town from 7 August through 14th (in case you try to get me…).
Take care,
Dr. A
-------------------------------------
So that's the latest. Steve and I have agreed to take a break on the decision-making until the house renovation is finished (or at least until it's in a liveable condition...we ARE realists about the whole thing). This gives me time to figure out what I really want to do and it means I can lift heavy things, paint, etc. without worrying. It's all good. :o)
How we warp our child
Me: Get your shoes on, we're going to go meet baby Milo.
Sam: He's here?
Me: Yep, he was just born today?
Sam: He was born today?
Me: Yep.
Sam: So he's not dead?
Steve: No, some babies (oops)...MOST babies get to go home to live with their mommies and daddies.
Me: Like you did...when you got to come live with us.
Sam: So he was born? How?
Me: Remember when Laura and Justin came for Travis' funeral? Milo was in Laura's tummy then...and he came out today.
Sam: How?
Me: (panicking) He was born.
Sam: So he's not going to be an angel?
Steve: Just get your shoes on.
We are not going to win any parent of the year awards, that's for sure.
Sam: He's here?
Me: Yep, he was just born today?
Sam: He was born today?
Me: Yep.
Sam: So he's not dead?
Steve: No, some babies (oops)...MOST babies get to go home to live with their mommies and daddies.
Me: Like you did...when you got to come live with us.
Sam: So he was born? How?
Me: Remember when Laura and Justin came for Travis' funeral? Milo was in Laura's tummy then...and he came out today.
Sam: How?
Me: (panicking) He was born.
Sam: So he's not going to be an angel?
Steve: Just get your shoes on.
We are not going to win any parent of the year awards, that's for sure.
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